


Knock, Knock (Please god don't answer that)

by Meadow_Wanderer



Series: Post Civil War Scenarios [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Captain America (Movies), DC Cinematic Universe, Dark Knight (2008), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anarchy, Arkham Asylum, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaos, Christian Bale's Batman, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Heath Ledger's Joker, Heavy Angst, Hidden Pasts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Not A Fix-It, Possessive Behavior, Post-Betrayal, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Psychological Trauma, Tony Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tony is Not Okay, just in case you were wondering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Wanderer/pseuds/Meadow_Wanderer
Summary: After the disastrous events of what the media is dubbing "Civil War" (he wants to eye roll at the name), with months paying off the collateral damage and having to appear at one too many funerals to express his deepest apologies (he wishes he could drink himself into oblivion), Tony Stark is finally reaching a point where he feels arguing to play the hero isn't worth it anymore. Unlike the good Captain's opinion, he knows their hands and his own are practically soaked with blood.But when Commissioner Jim Gordon approaches him after a tech convention, this one focused on his latest innovations of biomedical braces and therapeutic devices for individuals dealing with major trauma, he requests his help with a patient. He suggests that Tony's work, specifically the Binary Augmented Retro Framing or B.A.R.F for short (god he has to work on that acronym), can potentially transform a psychotic criminal into a somewhat thriving member of society.Like most opportunities he knows will come back to bite him in the ass, Tony's curious enough to consider it, especially when the only thing Gordon can tell him about said patient is that he goes by the title of "The Joker".





	1. How does that old joke start?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story in a series of post Civil War (film) scenarios. Each story is completely stand alone from the other stories in the series, unrelated unless specified otherwise.
> 
> And yes I understand it's kinda blasphemous to pair up DC and Marvel, but Idc and I'm just writing this because I really want to see it happen. I've planned this story out for weeks, down to the minute details, and I hope you'll enjoy.

The sound of his mother calling out for Howard over and over again as the man is being murdered makes Tony feel nauseous. He wants her to call for someone else, anything else, or just stop all together because the desperate sounds are breaking the feeble semblance of stability he's been trying to hold onto throughout this whole Accords mess. But then he gets his sick wish, because when Howard's dead and his body is tossed carelessly back behind the wheel, the Winter Solider walks around the car and sticks his hand, _the_ _flesh and blood one,_  inside the passenger window. He proceeds to strangling the sounds out of his mother until she goes quiet and still. 

When the video ends, and the bubbling anger is enough to make him try to run at Bucky, Steve grabs him as he beseechingly says his name. Something in his tone is too revealing to hide any detail in it. Tony takes his time, trying to restrain himself before he looks into the familiar eyes that no longer look so innocent anymore.

"Did you know?" gaze drilling into Steve's, daring him to try to look away.

"I didn't know it was him-"

"Don't bullshit me Rogers," he grits out lowly. "Did you know?"

It's silent for a moment, so quiet he can hear Steve swallow thickly before he answers, "Yes."

Tony shoves Steve off of him, wanting to get as far away from this stranger beside him. He closes his eyes, pulling at the all too familiar words he's repeated to himself over the years, _'This will not destroy me. This will not destroy me.'_

But god, his mother. The bloody images and her dying breaths that are engrained his mind cause an ache so deep, that he can do nothing to deter the pain. All he can do is to latch onto to it and lash out, which is exactly what he does by slamming his gauntlet into Steve's jaw, sending the super soldier flying back.

After that he loses himself in the hatred, the misery, the lament over wasted efforts, and the undeniable anguish. He doesn't listen to rhyme or reason as he tries to inflict any damage he can upon the super soldiers, just so that they will feel an ounce of the torment he's in.

But then he's on the floor as the vicious slams against his helmet cause his head to jerk violently back against the concrete, until the faceplate is suddenly ripped away. He register the cold shock for a single moment, before Steve lifts up the shield again to deliver the final blow. In that one second, he thinks he's going to be decapitated or worse, if he survives this blow, he's gonna be turned into a living vegetable. 

Tony reacts instinctively, immediately bringing his arms up to protect his face, sparing one thought that of all his past trauma, he doesn't want to lose his mind this way. 

But when the blunt force hits his chest, crushing the sternum with such brutality that he can feel the broken pieces of metal and glass burying themselves into the skin beneath, Tony can only stare in mute shock at the shield; where it stands erect, the metal rim is cutting straight across his arc reactor. He hears Steve breathing out, maybe in relief or exhaustion before he collapses to the side, Tony's hands falling listlessly on the ground. 

He lays there for a moment, eyes roaming around lost, desperately echoing his earlier mantra. _This will not destroy me. This will not destroy me._

He's too trapped in his head to do anything when he realizes that Steve is standing once again, taking a hold of the shield and twisting it forcefully out of his suit, the movement so familiar that he has to assure himself Obi is dead and gone. He watches Steve head towards his fallen buddy, picking him up and shouldering his remaining arm.

When Tony tries to sit up, he feels a slick gush of blood drip down his chest beneath the twisted metal. He acknowledges distantly that the source of the blood is from a wound made by Captain America using his father's own shield.

It'll end up being just another scar that Howard left in creating his legacy. 

That makes him immediately want that shield melted down until there's nothing left. He wants to obliterate everything Howard ever obsessed and sacrificed over, leaving more than a few tears and crushed childhood hopes in his quest to find the famous war hero. And so he yells that the shield doesn't belong to Steve, that he doesn't deserve it, that his father made that it. He says all of this hoping that the words eat at the super soldier like a virus that will slowly dig into his perfect, pure stubborn soul and cause him the same pain Tony feels. He wants Steve to remember he's helping someone that killed the man who made his trusty little weapon. 

Steve halts in his steps for a long moment, before dropping the dreaded thing with little care. The man then walks away with his precious prize and never once looks back. 

When they disappear from sight, Tony allows himself to crumble back onto the ground, the bodily pain that radiates all over leaves him immobile on his back for the time being. And in that time, he thinks how he ended up here.

Pepper leaving him, stating they can't do this anymore. Blamed for the death of an amazing kid by a grieving mother, and rightfully so. Blamed by everyone for allowing the Avengers to fall apart, despite trying so hard to keep them all together. Watching Rhodey fall and not catching him in time. Learning Rhodey is paralyzed from the waist down. Acting defensive and hurt towards Natasha, someone he thought was on his side and that he thought understood what he was trying to do, but instead was called out for his ego. Stabbing comments from Clint, from fucking Antman, from everyone under the goddamn sun cause they ended up in an underwater prison designed by Ross. Watching the grainy old video and learning just about how Howard and his mother died. The sound of his mother's last pleading breath. The taste of betrayal in his mouth when Steve looks him dead in the eye and says "yes". Feeling the one piece of machinery being destroyed, the one that has been with him since Afghanistan, even if it no longer keeps him alive. Watching someone who killed his family walk away, down an arm but alive.

Tony isn't oblivious to the fact he's been dealing with PTSD since...jesus, forever it seems. These days it all seem to just bleed together, like receiving lashes from a whip against the skin of his bare back; he can't tell what number he's on anymore, he only registers the feeling of blood dripping sluggishly down his back.

He lets out a gust of air, the cloud swirling in the cold as he closes his eyes, just so he can stop the wetness that threatens to make it's reappearance when he thinks of his mother's warmth.

The events today are no different from what he's experienced. Hell, this whole mess is a walk in a park compared to having his head held underwater multiple times in Afghanistan or flying a nuke into outer space. He can handle these new mental scars, just like he handled all of his past experiences in a similar manner. All he has to do is compartmentalize them and move on. They aren't that bad anyways. It might take him a day or two, maybe a week at the most, before he's back to this masked version of himself. 

It's funny really, because so many of his experiences would be seen as cause for alarm by anyone else. He noticed how Jarvis, _the real one_ , had looked at him as if at any moment Tony would crumble to pieces when his parents were being buried. He saw the looks of thinly-veiled concern Rhodey would send him after he admitted the truth about his brush with palladium-induced death. He knows he scared the hell out of Pepper after the alien attack on New York, especially with the whole dilemma of extremis that followed. And Vision wasn't exactly subtle with his outright pitiful staring as they sat outside of the hospital room where his best friend was given that breakdown of his injury. They were all waiting for the moment when Tony Stark snapped, when all the trauma of his past and present would finally catch up to him.

But only he knows that none of these things, not even the ones that happened mere minutes ago, will be enough to destroy him. 

Because there is one trauma that no one knows about, and anyone who does have a semblance of an idea is long dead. Tony has buried the memory so deep into his subconscious, in the dark recesses of his mind, that not even his nightmares are able to drag it to the surface. These ex-teammates of his could come and each grab a limb or piece of skin and tear him apart, piece by piece, but they would still never find the memory. 

So he gives himself a little time to wonder how fast Friday will send back the helicopter after his suit went offline. He wonders if the four dead super soldiers in this Siberian bunker ever hated the cold as much as he is beginning to. He wonders how hot it has to be to melt Vibranium. He thinks of at least ten different designs for the leg braces he's gonna make Rhodey, because like hell if his best friend is never going to walk again, not on Tony's fucking watch. He keeps this train of thought going until he hears the tall-tale signs of the his helicopter landing near the base.

_This will not break me._

 

 

 _-/-_ {7 months later}   _-/-_

 

 

_A man in his late thirties straps on his jacket, zipping it up before stepping into his combat boots. He bends down, tying them tightly with callused fingers. He then reaches towards his bunk, making a grab for his helmet before striding outside. There's movement all around, other soldiers passing by, some nod at him in greeting while others are focused on their own mission._

_He seems to spot someone familiar, making his way towards their place standing beside a truck._

_"Hey..." the man tries hesitatingly._

_The other man remains silent, eyes staring down as he shifts through his pack._

_"I know I said some awful stuff yesterday, but-"_

_"Pfft. Awful stuff. We're in the middle of a war zone Joey, and yet you thought bringing up how heartbroken mom was that I didn't stay would make this war more bearable?"_

_The man, Joe, sighs deeply. "I was upset, because the last thing I wanted my little brother to do is follow in my footsteps."_

_The younger brother glares up at him. "I'm not following you around like some goddam lost puppy. I'm doing what I want, and what I want is to serve our country," the fight seems to gradually drain from him as he looks around at the others around the base. "You should know this, every time you go over this fight it doesn't change when you yell me. It just makes things worse."_

_The man, who is so ready to let the simmering anger inside up him flare up, suddenly lets his shoulders sag. "Ok, I understand that now."_

_The younger brother exhales as a whistle signals for the soldiers to load up. "C'mon it's time," he then starts to walk off towards the others._

_"Logan!" he calls, almost desperately._

_The man turns back to look at his older brother. Joe struggles, before saying, "I just want you to know that I'm proud of you....and that I love you a lot."_

_Logan smiles, the young enthused thing makes it's appearance on his face. "Right back at you big bro."_

The projection disappears as the middle-aged man takes off the glasses, adjusting himself in his wheelchair as a tear falls down his cheek. Tony strides out from the side wings. "Help me give a big round of applause for Sergeant Joseph King, who was so graciously willing to share his own personal memory with us."

The crowd stands, applauding the veteran as the man wipes the remaining wetness from his eyes. The Los Angeles Convention Center is packed to the brim with veterans, military higher-ups, families, ambitious techies, and news reporters who are all here for the debuting of SI's medical initiative. After a few minutes of joining in the uninhibited applause, Tony signals the crowd to return to their seats.

"Sergeant King lost his brother and his mobility due to a crossfire in Iraq. Over the past few weeks, it has been expressed in personal correspondence with him and his family that he's suffered over the years with PTSD and survivors guilt. He can't sleep more than a few hours each night, deals with loss of appetite, and has settled into a deep depression after being honorably discharged. When I met this man and learned of his story, I knew that the Binary Augmented Retro Framing device could be a stepping stone for him on the road to recovery. His story is just one of millions stemming from the veterans we have in this country who are dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. And with the topic of mental health still being treated with stigma into today's society, many of those brave men and women are not getting the medical treatment they need, or worse, not getting it at affordable costs."

Tony lays a hand on the veterans' shoulder. "I'm proud to announce that Stark Industries has mass manufactured this new technology at the lowest cost in history for any device focused in mental rehabilitation. Sergeant King is the first recipient for this tech at the cost of $60."

The crowd thunderous claps echo around the convention center, the sound making him feel lighter than he's been in weeks.  

Tony focuses back on the veteran, who already has his hand held out. Tony shakes it graciously. "Thank you again, Tony. I can't even begin to express how much this has helped me and my family," the man says, voice barely restraining the emotional undertone. 

Tony gives him a smile, one of the rare genuine ones he always tends to avoid. "Anytime Joe. If there's ever any problems with it, just give me a call."

The man nods in gratitude, before he wheels himself off to the side of the stage where his wife and young children await him. Tony turns back to the crowd.

"In this day and age where memories can be both a blessing and a curse, the Binary Augmented Retro Framing device hooks non-invasively into the temporal lobe, the part of the brain that controls memory storage. No longer will you have to wonder if there was more that could be done in a situation, no longer will you have to wrestle with guilt about not telling our loved ones how much we loved them before they passed on, and no longer will you have to be haunted by the ghosts of your past. All the new technology of Stark Industries, including the biomedical braces that Colonel Rhodes demonstrated earlier, will be covered under any insurance company as well as any government aid services. Your mental health is more important than any wealth we could stand to gain. Your well-being is more important than the blatant disregard you've been shown."

The whole place is quiet, hanging onto every word he utters. He can spot the first rows of people looking at him with awe and humbled gratefulness. 

"No longer will you have to let your memories control your life," he finishes with a flare. 

The crowd's cheers unanimously before everyone heads to the respective booths set up around the place, to ogle at the new technology. Tony breathes out in relief as he walks off behind the curtain, taking a moment to feel proud of himself. He did a good thing, and this time, no one suffered for it. He didn't fuck up something beyond repair. 

"That's fantastic work you're doing, Mr. Stark," an unfamiliar voice says.

Tony turns to the newcomer, a slim man with brown copper hair and wearing black-framed glasses. He looks to be in his late 50s, if going by the lines of aging that appear on his face and the weary sense of exhaustion that emulates from him. The man sticks his hand to greet him, his smile warm and demeanor not so different from Bruce Banner. Tony ignores the painful twinge elicited by the thought of his old science bro, instead taking the outstretched hand to return the greeting firmly.

He plasters on his best press smile. "It's the least I can do for those who put their lives out on the line so selflessly. And please, call me Tony. Mr. Stark was my father and I'd rather live in blissful ignorance, where I can pretend I'm still in my 20s."

"Gotham's Police Commissioner Jim Gordon," he introduces himself. "And I'd say you don't look a day over 40," the man jokes kindly.

Tony slaps a hand on his chest, off a bit left of the midline, gasping a bit dramatically. "I am hurt Commissioner. You compliment me only to ruin my dreams a moment later."

The man smiles wider now, dropping the handshake to straighten out his glasses. "I'm sure you'll live, seeing as we all someday have to face the fact that we grow older; I've come to accept the crows feet and bags under my eyes with dignity. And while I am flattered you would allow me to address you personally, I would however ask if you would prefer the name Dr. Stark, seeing as you have three- forgive me, now _four_  doctorates to your name."

Tony feels his shoulders sag a bit in relaxation, something about the calmness in Gordon's voice helping ease the tension that was there. "After the first one, the title of Dr. loses it's shine outside of political meetings and academic lectures. I prefer to be called Tony. But yes, you're correct about the academics. I finished my Doctorate in neuroscience just three months ago, though it took a bit longer than the others, 2 1/2 years this time, given my involvement with past events of the Ave-" he pauses, before correcting himself smoothly. "Given my involvement with  _other things._ "

Gordon ignores the slip, instead continuing on with their current discussion. "That's still impressive given that most of us regular folks are lucky to finish in four years. Plus, I'd say neuroscience is not an easy subject."

Tony puts his hands in his jacket pockets, shifting his stance into more of a lax pose. "Well I figured if I'm presenting technology that deals with the brain, gotta have some educational backing to say I know that what the hell I'm talking about." And even then, there will always be skeptics. "But enough about me, what brings you to this gathering? Gotham is not exactly around the corner from California."

"The reason I'm here is to request your help."

"And what kinda of help could I be to you?" _'And is it something that I will undoubtedly fuck up like everything else?'_ is left unsaid.

"You invention of mental rehabilitation with your Binary Augmented-"

"B.A.R.F."

The man looks taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"B.A.R.F." he sounds out the word. "B-A-R-F. I know it's a sucky acronym for the device, temporary I assure you, but the fancy smancy name for it is too long winded outside of presentations."

Gordon is silent as he processes the statement, before nodding. "Right. Well your device... _B.A.R.F._ is nothing short of amazing. The Mayor of Gotham and a few other higher-ups are looking into acquiring it to be used on a current patient at Arkham Asylum."

Tony hums. "What sort of result are hoping to get from using my device?"

"We're trying to see if it can 'cure the crazies' as they put it."

"And they just decided the Police Commissioner was the one to come here and request my help?"

With a swiftness, Gordon's mouth falls into a grim line, eyes going somewhat distant with past ghosts. "I'm the one who has the most hands-on experience with patient, both personally and professionally." 

Tony tips his head to the side, examining the rigidness that has set into the man's posture. "Do you think this patient can be turned into an ordinary working class citizen?"

"No," he admits, not even bothering to hide his certainty. "In fact, if it was up to me, we would leave this madmen in a padded cage for the rest of his life. He caused a lot of chaos and death, and last thing we need is him back out on the streets."

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," he sighs out, looking every bit his age. "My superiors know of my objections, many having their own doubts as well, but even if it doesn't work, we will at least know some of the root causes behind his motives and hopefully stop it from ever happening again. Hell, maybe it can help alleviate the psychotic ailments of the other patients."

Tony pauses a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, the product is due to hit the market within the week. I'll be sure to give you all premiere shipping discounts and-"

"Actually, we would like if you could come personally to oversee this."

Tony raises an eyebrow in surprise. "You want  _me_ to be the one to coax this patient into having a reality check?"

Gordon nods. "You've know how it is, dealing with the bad guys; sometimes those who are too close to the situation can't see straight. I don't think anyone who lives in Gotham or was involved with the whole mess almost 10 years ago can do this without bias. Bringing in an experienced outsider like yourself, one who has a PhD in neuroscience nonetheless, will give us the best chance to make sure we aren't gonna do more harm than good."

Tony remains silent, not sure what to conclude about this request.

Gordon sighs, digging a hand around in his jacket pocket before taking out a business card, which he holds out towards him. "Think about it."

Tony takes the card and turns over in his fingers. "What makes this man so special? What sets him apart from any other common criminal?"

"The only thing we know about this man, apart from his psychotic proclivity to cause destruction, is the name by which he goes by."

"Not his real name?"

Gordon shakes his head. "No, because there's no match in any database; not on his prints, dental, DNA, blood type, you name it and we've checked ten times already."

Strange indeed. "So what's this guy's villainous name?"

"The Joker."

Tony barely manages to repress the snort. "Why? Did he do stand-up comedy before he turned evil or does he seem to have the ward guards continuously in stitches?"

"He wears clown make-up and likes to laugh as he tries to burn the world," Gordon says as if commenting on the weather.

"Huh." Because what else is there to say to that.

"Anyways, I just ask you to please think about it," Gordon then takes this as cue to leave, turning to walk away.

"Commissioner," he calls out, the man puses and looks back at him. "You told me everything that would entice others, things that would draw every crime solvers and mystery buff to your doorstep, but why do _you_ not like him? What makes him different than anyone else you've had to deal with in your line of work?"

The man seems taken off-guard by the question. Tony manages to catch the same haunted look now glazing over his eyes before he looks off to the side. "Because he destroyed everything," he says gravely. 

Gordon doesn't wait for another question, instead resumes his journey back into the crowd, Tony watching him silently as he goes.

Tony looks down at the card, not sure what he plans to do with it. But his solace is short-lived when a familiar voice comes running up to him.

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!"

Tony sighs exasperated, pocketing the card. "Kid, I thought I told you to just call me Tony."

An plain-clothed Peter looks a bit sheepish at the statement, nervously fiddling with the convention pass that hangs around his neck. "Well, yeah...you said that back then but-"

Tony lays a easy hand on the kid's shoulder, leaning his head close to make sure their conversation remains private. "And that rule still applies when you're out of your spandex onesie."

Peter's shoulders ease at the words, a slightly goofy smile making it's way onto his face. "Ok Mr.Sta- I mean, Tony. But dude, that presentation was so awesome. I mean, seriously! Can you imagine how this will change people's lives? The amount of mental health issues and suicides could exponentially go down, and then-"

"Whoa, whoa kid. One step at a time. Like I said, it's only a stepping stone, not a permanent solution."

Peter looks a bit offended on Tony's behalf, which is kinda sickeningly heartwarming. "A stepping stone? This is like a leap across midtown. Seriously Mr. Sta- _Tony_ , what you're doing is amazing."

Tony chuckles, the sound almost foreign after going so long without it. "Kid, you already got the internship. You don't need to butter me up."

Peter eyes go wide. "I'm not. Seriously, this is a dream come true working at SI, but also to have a mentor like you is...crazy."

And there it is again, the warmth in his chest that threatens to melt his cold dead damaged heart. "Alright, as much as I love sappy moments, let's go find Rhodey. I noticed some old ladies who were checking him out on stage, so we might have to beat them off with a stick."

Peter laughs, the tone so childish and innocent, that it shocks Tony a bit to be reminded how young he is. As they walk towards the gathering crowd, Tony flashes the media smile at the people waiting to meet him, the business card forgotten in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sigh cause this chapter was supposed to be short lol. But alas, shortness is not my forte'.


	2. They say they're laughing with you, but how can that be when you aren't laughing at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The unique timeframe for this story is that it is Post CA:Civil War, but it's pre The Dark Knight Rises. (It's been almost 10 years since the events of The Dark Knight) Hope that all makes since.
> 
> *bullshitting some politics in this, sorry not sorry haha* *Also made up a person for China's un rep (it's not the actress)*

Tony never cared for politics, but it was an aspect of life he'd come to realize you couldn't cut out of your life necessarily. This especially became apparent when he announced he was Iron Man and the sequential events that followed. When the Accords were handed to him, it was the final nail in the coffin of trying to keep personal and professional lives separate. He knew in that moment that they couldn't play ignorant to the political backlash, not when the UN was battering down their door and screaming for them to stop for a moment and listen to the pleas of the people they represented. The others might have thought it could be ignored and forgotten, but even seven months later, Tony knew it couldn't. It would _not_ be ignored any longer.

In fact, sitting in this chair now, towards the front row of the gathered UN General Assembly, he was silently waiting as the fate of everything he worked so hard hung in the balance.

Having meet a few previous times post Avengers split, with each time leading to hours of discussion between pro and anti sides, the members of the UN had been debating the integrity of the Accords for a while. This of course was a huge point given that two months post Superhero boy band split, evidence of Ross' illegal holding of some of the superheroes and his involvement human experimentation surfaced on the web. While Tony had little to do with such action (except maybe anonymously releasing video surveillance of the Raft he had FRIDAY take from his chopper), hearing the Ex-Secretary of Defense was currently serving jail time for a long cozy stay always made him a bit chipper. He suspected a certain spider was responsible for it, but Romanov had yet to make her presence known. While some would be disappointed, he was not. He would be more than fine if the ex- spy never showed up again.

The President and Secretary of Defense, who are sitting to the left and right of Tony, occasionally inquired about how he thought the vote would go. He shakes his head each time, because he had no answer for them. He had argued countlessly in the past months of why the Avengers were needed, but even his own heart wasn't in it. He was no hero and he was just tired of this ever repeating cycle. He agreed time and time again that they did need to be put in check, but many of the representatives were worried about the other of his ex-team members; their actions cost them invaluable trust of the people they were supposed to protect and Tony's hope at reaching good conclusion had long since left the building.

Just then, the murmuring of the assembly quiets as the council ascends to the podium. The council is composed of a five person committee who took up the mantle of heading the Accords in place of the late King T'Chaka; each member has served as an ambassador to their own country so Tony is at least assured their all competent. 

The head of the council and the Representative of China, Ambassador Fala Chen approaches the microphone. 

"Good afternoon," she says, accent on the heavy side. "Today we have called the UN General Assembly as to announce our decision on the Accords document, previously introduced by the late King T'Chaka of Wakanda and signed in favor by 117 countries."

  _'Don't bench it. Don't bench it. Don't bench it," he begs in his head over and over._

"After months of discussion and listening to several arguments presented, this UN council has reached a decision on the original Accords. In light of the past events surrounding the Avengers and the abuse imparted by ex-Secretary Thaddeus Ross, we have decided to bench it." Tony closes his eyes, his gut dropping as the voices around him either rise in agreement or protest. "The document will be given to a select board for thorough review. This summit is adjourned." 

Tony hears people get up and move around, prompting him after a moment of sheer defeat, to opens his eyes and rise from his seat. He shakes hands with both the Secretary and the President, an apology palpable in both their eyes as they depart.

"Mr. Stark," a deep-toned voice calls for his attention.

He turns his head to see the King of Wakanda, appearing as regal and poised as ever. The set of his shoulders indicates a underlying calmness, while his hands remain firmly clasped behind his back. His body guard, a toned woman with large gold earrings and a shaved head stands further to the side.

Tony swallows down the childish desire to stick his fingers in his ears, go 'lalalala', and run away. "Your Majesty. To what pleasure do I owe your presence?"

T'Challa smiles, no doubt noticing his lack of enthusiasm. "I wanted to congratulate you on your newest business venture. It is a fine achievement in the area of cognitive rehabilitation."

Tony is a little thrown, but takes the praise with a grain of humbleness. "Thank you. A compliment from the leader of the world's most technologically advanced country is flattering, to say the least."

"My country is only advanced because of the efforts of our people. Without the brilliant scientists, physicians, and technicians, Wakanda would be in the same state as our neighbors."

"That and you're sitting on the largest deposit of Vibranium in the world." 

The King's grin does not falter even the slightest. "Yes, that too," he concedes. 

The exhaustion of today suddenly sinks into Tony, the recent ruling and this lively conversation doing nothing but making him irritable. And so he tries to bow out. "Well, this was nice encounter and all, but I've got to-"

"I was wanting to offer my help with your efforts in writing a new version of Accords."

"Really?" This time it's Tony that smiles, though it a brittle thing. "And why would want to do that, your Majesty?"

T'Challa straightens his stance, ready to face a challenge. "My father was the one to draft the first document, and though it has been abused and now under thorough review, I still support something my father believed in. Any of my services that I can offer in the expenditure of rewriting it are there for your request."

Tony huffs out a laugh, the sound unsettling enough that he can see the minute flinch when the King is taken aback by it. "As much as that is a wonderful idea Kitty Kat, I doubt being apart of a redrafted Accords is going to keep your country out of the line of fire, especially since you're currently housing the ex-Avengers."

The change in the man is immediate, the softness in his face disappears and his sharp eyes slightly narrow. The King casts a quick glance around the summit room, to ensure no other representative can hear their exchange. "There must be a misunderstanding, because I have no idea wh-"

"Yeah, yeah save it. We both know the truth, so let's cut the bullshit act."

T'Challa snaps his mouth closed with a click of his teeth, lips twisting. His bodyguard is a silent spectator over his shoulder. "I would advise you to be careful with your words, especially in the presence of a Dora Milaje. As for the matter of your statement, you've done nothing with such... _speculation._ "

"I have no desire to nor do I need to. Though I can't imagine your people, with all their brilliance and ingenuity, are too happy with your decision."

The man jaw clenches minutely as he speaks lowly, eyes downcast. "My people cannot understand my obligation to make up for my past transgressions against Sergeant Barnes."

"And you're surprised by this?" he asks lowly. "Barnes is one thing, but you've allowed those who were partly responsible for the deaths of some of their own in Lagos to take shelter in your country. Of course they are going to upset."

He turns back to his seat, shuffling the now useless documents and his Starkpad back into his briefcase. 

"I see you have not let go of your anger."

Tony stops his movements, cackling at the sheer audacity of this pseudo-saint. 

T'Challa continues on. "Vengeance will do nothing good for those who seek it. It will bring you no relief or joy. I've learned that lesson when I almost let it consume me. That is why I chose to not kill Zemo when I found out the truth, for I knew his suffering nor his death would satisfying the pain of my father's passing. If you only-"

Tony whips around, holding up a finger. "Alright Simba, I'm gonna stop you right there. First off, don't give me a lecture on how to be a righteous man, because you decided to follow the law now. Let's make it clear that you _did_ go on a path of vengeance and try to kill Barnes multiple times, abandoning your country and your duties to satisfy your pain. Sure at the end of the day, you didn't kill Zemo, so kudos to you. But don't bother to convince yourself you were above it all through this whole mess."

The King remains silent, so Tony continues on, "Second, when this all was happening and please forgive me, but your father had been dead for a few days. My parents had been dead for years, and all the while I had been made to believe it was a car crash. And then suddenly I'm finding out that they were murdered by none other than the Winter Soldier; and than I come to find out that good ol' Captain America had kept this truth from me for two years. So yeah I was angry and I lashed out, but don't you dare try to compare my pain to yours and tell me how I am supposed to feel. Third, just because I am still angry, doesn't mean I'm after vengeance. It's taken time, but I understand now Barnes is as much of a victim as those he was forced to kill, but that doesn't mean the others get a free pass. The families of the officers in Bucharest that had to bury their loved ones feel same."

He turns back to his seat and grabs his stuff, putting on his tinted sunglasses. "And though your offer is very gracious, I'm turning it down; not because I'm proud man, but because it's a useless thing at this point."

He looks back at T'Challa to see he appears both offended and bewildered at his words, causing Tony's shoulders to drop tiredly.

"You might not comprehend international politics the way I do, which is understandable given that Wakanda had been isolation for so long. When they say the original Accords are going to be benched, it means they are throwing it out."

T'Challa takes a moment to think, before asking, "And this is not a good thing? The other Avengers can potentially be pardoned in light of misuse of the Accords, and can bring their objections to the original document forward."

"They never even read the damn thing, so I doubt their objections would be considered well founded" Tony shakes his head, commenting sharply. "And no, it's not good. These governments are now throwing it out, to bring up something different." 

 "Different?" T'Challa asks with a decent amount of trepidation.

Tony pauses at the tone of his voice to look into the King's dark brown eyes. The expression is no longer cool and collected, but a bit out of depth; it makes Tony muster up smidgen of pity at the sight, because this kid became King under really shitty circumstances, ruler to a nation before he was truly ready.

Tony sighs, breaking the news. _"Worse."_

With that, he bows to T'Challa in self-dismal before turning and walking away, leaving the young King and his silent protector in his metaphorical dust.

 

-/-

Throughout his whole life, Tony has always been dealing with bit of agoraphobia; the awareness of the large empty spaces he occupies, weighing him down to expose his loneliness and vulnerability. It's nothing that truly hinders him from functioning, he's come to accept that people have always come and gone in his life faster than he can process. But he copes, like always. He built an AI and 3 somewhat capable robots to combat the silence in his own lab when it feels oppressive. He attends parties and functions, not because he enjoys such frivolous interaction (god no), but because the chatter and warm bodies passing by him make him feel less alone. 

Coping is the only way he learns to get by. It's why after two months post "Civil War" (eye roll continuously) he moved out of the compound with his best friend in tow, once Rhodey's physical therapist gave him the green light. The place had been designed with the concept of many in mind, and then suddenly the few remaining felt that vastness everywhere they turned. Once they packed up the few of their belongings, leaving the others untouched, they relocated to the tower in the city.  ~~Avengers~~ Stark tower, although just as big and housing each of the individual floors, was a more fitting place to live; at least he could permanently close off the unused floors. 

He arrives back at the tower (home sweet home), the silence enough to be on the edge of unsettling when he steps into the empty common room. Rhodey is fast asleep on his private floor and there is no Vision roaming around the halls, waiting to greet him and inquire about his well being; that is of course by Tony's own choice, which he can't find it in himself to regret, even if it pains him now. There's exhaustion thrumming beneath his veins, but he knows he can't sleep yet, not even if he actually tried.

He saunters over to the minibar, pulling out a glass and twisting the top off the John Walker Blue, pouring himself no more than two fingers. He thinks after the shit show today, he's earned it. He takes his glass and sips from it, letting the familiar taste flow down his throat like sandpaper smoothing over a wooden figurine. He strides over to the lounge chairs near the windows, not bothering to even tell Friday to bring up the lights.

He places his glass on the coffee table and then shucks off his jacket, digging a hand inside the pocket to grab his Starkphone when Tony sees something white flutter to the ground. He crouches down and picks up Commissioner Gordon's business card that he had coincidently forgotten in this very jacket, the edges a bent after sending the suit to the dry cleaners last week. 

He hadn't given much thought to what his decision was regarding the Commissioner's request. Well, since being a superhero might not be a viable option in his future, maybe this distraction could keep him busy.

"Fri, bring up all information you can find about Gotham." 

 _"Timeframe?"_ the AI inquired.

"About 10 years ago."

As Friday scours the internet, he sits down in the leather seat, loosening his tie with one hand while still holding the card with the other.

Gotham is a bit of an anomaly. Jurisdiction on the city is air tight, and not many outsiders get information of what's happening inside the borders until it's too late. You don't learn much unless you go looking for it. He's heard rumors of their vigilante protecting the city, similar to that Hell's Kitchen guy, but so far things have been quiet in recent years, like the calm before a storm.

FRIDAY doesn't bother with the lights, instead projects the holographic images in front of him. Newspaper clippings, police reports, headlines, and videos appear before him.

_"During your given timeframe, law enforcement was looking to crack down on the mobs. The Late District Attorney of Gotham, Harvey Dent was overseeing the indictment."_

The image of a handsome man with sandy blond hair appeared, dressed in a suit with his arms crossed. The caption 'I believe in Harvey Dent' was placed underneath the ad. Another newspaper shows a memorial of Harvey Dent commemorated over the years.

"How many did they get?"

 _"My data suggests...549 criminals. Tried by Judge Surrillo under the RICO case, they were charged with 712 counts of extortion, 849 counts of racketeering, 246 counts of fraud, 87 counts of conspiracy to commit murder, and 527 counts on obstruction of justice."_  The AI's voice then has a hint of amusement to it as she says, _"The defendants pleaded not guilty."_

Tony snorts, taking a pull from his glass. "Gotta admit, the DA had balls."

He pushes the paperwork away, as FRIDAY brings up a news headline, this one with a picture of Batman hanging by a noose outside a building. The headline reads ' **BATMAN DEAD?'** Beside the clipping is a video of emergency services lowering the body down.

Tony is kinda stunned. "Is this him, Fri?"

_"Negative Boss. The man in the picture is Bryan Douglass, a butcher at the local deli shop. Part time activities suggest a proclivity for dressing up as the Batman and pretending to be the vigilante."_

It's not an unusual thing. He knows the assembly of the Avengers caused more than a few untrained civilians to try and join the fight, which left more of a mess than it helped.

_"After Douglass' body was discovered, this video was released to the public."_

Tony felt himself set the glass down, eyes glued to the screen.

 

_The feed popped up in front of him, shot by what looked like a handheld camera. There, strapped to a lawn chair, was Bryan in what looked like a freezer, dead carcasses of beef hanging behind him._

_An eery voice spoke. "Tell them your name."_

_"Bryan...Douglass."_

_A high pitched giggle came off-screen as the camera shook. "Are you the real Batman?"_

_"No."_

_"No?" the person asked in humorous disbelief._

_"No."_

_"No," the person repeatedly laughed, sending a shiver up Tony's spine. "Then why do you dress up like him?" A gloved hand tore off the cowl of the costume, giggling as it wiggled it in front of the camera._

_"He's a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you," the fear evident in Bryan's voice._

_"You do Bryan, you really do," the gloved hand gripped the guy's hair tightly, a low whine coming from Bryan's throat. The sound makes Tony's gut clench until it ceases as the gloved hand then pet him, the person shushing the distressed man. Then he slaps him lightly across the cheeks._

_"So you think Batman has made Gotham a better place?"_

_Bryan doesn't answer._

_"Look at me."_

_Bryan's head falls, eyes glued to the side._

_"LOOK AT ME!" the shout menacing enough for even Tony to flinch as Bryan's looks up, eyes filled with fear and despair._

_The camera keeps on the tied up man, until it flips, revealing a face covered in clown paint, a red messy smile painted on, reaching as high as his cheeks. His dark eyes are surrounded in charcoal. "You see this is how crazy Batman has made Gotham. You want order in Gotham? Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in." The camera gets real close into the creepy face. "Every day he doesn't people will died, starting tonight. I'm a man of my word."_

_"The face then sinisterly laughs, revealing yellow teeth as the camera shakes, Bryan's yelling in the background._

 

"Shut it off Fri." 

The video disappears as Tony rolls his shoulders, mind trying to evade thoughts of that fucking sadistic laugh. 

FRIDAY continues on. "There _are more videos and news papers reporting what went on after this. The assassinations of Judge Surrillo and former Commissioner Loeb were orchestrated by the Joker, as well as other civilian causalities that garnered over the following weeks. Collateral damage during this time was reported to be substantial."_

Tony took a moment to think. To 'fix the crazies' of this psycho, it was going to take a miracle. But with SI medical initiative launched already, Stark electronics all updated, and no Avengers gear in production, Tony was at a standstill. He literally had nothing more to do with his free time (besides inventing of course); plus Rhodey wasn't always around to keep him busy now that his enhanced braces allowed the Colonel to resume working with the military.  

Getting involved with this would create an avenue when the superhero gig was slowly crumbling apart.

"Fri, ring up Commissioner Jim Gordon," Tony called, downing the last drop of of the liquor. 

The phone rang and rang, until it hit voice mail, bringing Tony to realize how late it was. Whoops. Well, he'll leave a voice mail.

_"This is Police Commissioner Jim Gordon. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message after the beep. Beep."_

"Hey Gordon. So about this job you want me to help with....when do I start? Call me back later at this number."

He hung up, stretching his arms up until his back cracked. 

"Any distress recently Gotham?"

" _No boss, things have been relatively peaceful, as much as a place like Gotham can be."_

"The Batman keeping things safe and sound?" he jokes lightly.

_"That's what is odd, boss. The vigilante known as Batman has been reportedly missing for the past 10 years."_

Tony frowns, thrown by the statement. "What do mean? He helped catch the Joker and his identity is still unknown. Why disappear?"

 _"There are arrest warrants out for the vigilante,"_ FRIDAY then pauses for a moment. _"Because according to the newspapers, the DA Harvey Dent was murdered by Batman."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading Post CW stories, I feel sometimes annoyed when T'Challa acts higher and mightier than others, especially Tony. I hate when someone compares their pain to another, trying to tell them how they should of handled it. Plus, I'm already writing a story where T'Challa and Tony are BFFS and together, so I needed a story where Tony wants nothing to do with him haha.
> 
>  
> 
> *Joker's voice* "And here we go..."


End file.
